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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381929">Processing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22'>Wolfcry22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awesome Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Hell Trials Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sensory Processing Disorder, The Impala (Supernatural)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:41:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is back from Hell, but things are very different and Dean will have to adapt if he wants to help his brother.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Processing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) isn’t a very well known disorder, but it shares some similar characteristics with autism spectrum disorder (ASD). I’ve mentioned SPD in another story that I posted, but I wanted to explore it a little more. I’ve done a lot of research on it and I apologize if I may have got somethings wrong. SPD is a spectrum disorder so it’s different for everyone that experiences it and no two people are the same. Anyway I hope that you all enjoy!</p><p>Warning for some strong language</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sensory processing disorder.</p><p>    That’s what they called it. At least that’s what the doctors had called when Dean had taken Sam to them after the fifth night of him pacing around their room, complaining that the hum of the TV was too loud and the lamp burned his eyeballs even being in proximity to it. Dean had thought that Sam was pulling his leg or something until he noticed the anguish on Sam’s face and how much he complained about it hurting him. That was when Dean knew they had to take drastic steps.</p><p>    The doctors at the clinic had asked Sam some questions and done some tests before deciding that sensory processing disorder fit Sam the best.</p><p>    Dean had thought it was some kind of made up disorder the doctors told him just to get him and Sam out of the clinic. However, Dean had taken Sam home and done some research online to figure out that it was actually a thing. It sounded like Hell if Dean was being honest. Certain textures, sounds, smells, or even tastes might prove too much for Sam and even cause his little brother pain. On the other hand, sometimes he would need to feel those certain textures if his body was craving sensory input. It was all very confusing and always hinged on what Sam needed at that time or place. That was something that they would need to work in.</p><p>    Dean had been debating on whether or not to take Sam on this grocery run on a Friday afternoon. He would’ve much rather left him alone in the motel room, but Sam was insistent. He had been rather clingy lately; Dean had chalked it up to returning from Hell and everything, but he couldn’t be sure. Dean didn’t mind it as much as he said that he did. If it helped Sam to always keep Dean in his sights and want to be with him even more than they already were, so be it. Who needed privacy anyway?</p><p>    Dean was regretting his decision as soon as they stepped into the crowded Walmart on a Friday night. </p><p>    Not only was everything brightly decorated for the upcoming Christmas holiday in less than a week, but people were also everywhere in a frenzy. People were tugging things out of each other’s carts and yelling at employees. It was enough to make Dean overwhelmed, let alone Sam.</p><p>    They had made it halfway down the refrigerated isle when Sam just stopped. His arms were brought loosely around his shoulders and eyes overbright. His shoulders were hunched and legs pressed together while his fingers flexed and curled over his arms as if debating whether or not he wanted to rest them there or not. There was something brewing  just below the surface that was waiting to erupt.</p><p>    Dean realized that his brother wasn’t behind them and turned back to notice Sam standing braced with a vacant stare locked on the frozen pizzas in front of him. “Sam?” He jogged back to get him and slowed when he saw the look on Sam’s face.</p><p>    His eyes were wide, unblinking, and blank all at the same time. His posture was rigid and it was clear that the cool air on his skin combined with the sounds of a normal grocery store were too much for Sam right now.</p><p>    “Sam? Sam, do you want to leave?”</p><p>    Sam gave no answer.</p><p>    Dean forced himself between Sam and the cold food, trying to cut through the haze to gain his attention. “Sammy, you gotta give me something here?”</p><p>    Out of instinct, Dean reached to grab Sam by the elbow. The moment the tips of his fingers brushed Sam’s skin, the younger Winchester leaped back. His hands dug into his arms and furiously sunk in. His shoulders lifted towards his ears as he shook where he stood. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!”</p><p>    Dean raised his hands in a show of surrender as he took a step back. “Okay, okay, I hear you. I’ll give you your space.” He kept a six foot radius away from his brother and stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “This okay?”</p><p>    Sam appeared to be only half listening to what Dean had to say. His gaze had started to dart around the store when a women rounded the corner talking loudly on her cellphone. That was enough to send Sam into high alert with his hands now pressed over his ears and body bent forward. He was muttering under his breath about torture and pain, but Dean couldn’t make it out. The only thing that he knew was that they needed to get out of there as soon as they could.</p><p>    “Okay, Sam, let’s go.” Dean took Sam by the arm this time since he was sure that Sam wasn’t about to leave on his own. The touch was firm since Sam had explained that soft touch was often worse than hard touch. If it was light it was perceived more as an annoyance or an itch that could be highly irritating. Sometimes that was the way to break through to Sam when he was in this mindset. The best that Dean could do was take him away from his trigger and get him someplace else.</p><p>    Dean abandoned their cart and quickly led Sam through the story and out the doors. The sound of a car alarm had Sam stopping dead in his tracks once more and even a few tugs from Dean wasn’t going to budge him. Dean didn’t want to forcibly drag him away since he was sure that wasn’t going out help matters, but he couldn’t leave him standing in the middle of the parking lot, legs braced and hands furiously pulling at the ends of the hair around his ears. </p><p>    “Shit, shit, shit.” The blaring of the car alarm was enough to make Dean flinch, so he couldn’t imagine how Sam was feeling. The best thing that Dean could do was to get Sam out of here and into someplace more tranquil that would soothe Sam’s frayed nerves that seemed to be on end. Dean would never be able to understand everything that Sam went through in the Cage. Even so, Dean was going to do everything in his power to be there for Sam.</p><p>    “Sam, you gotta look at me.” Dean stood in front of Sam’s line of vision. Although he was a head shorter than him, Sam still could still that he was standing there. “Sam!”</p><p>    Sam looked down at Dean with fingers still pulling at his hair. At least now Dean could see a flicker of recognition on his face. “I’m right here, Sam. I’m not going anywhere and I’m going to get you somewhere safe, but you have to trust me, okay? Come with me.”</p><p>    It was pure instinct that Sam actually followed Dean toward the Impala at the end of the long row of cars. He kept so close to Dean that he was almost on top of him. A couple times Dean wanted to look back and snap at Sam to give him some breathing room. One look at Sam, however, told him that he had to be patient with him. Sometimes stimulus made Sam uncomfortable enough to promote a reaction and other times he craved it. Dean rarely knew when Sam needed either one, but he was learning how to best gage Sam’s needs to be able to help him. It also came with patience and that was something Dean was still working on when it came to his giant of a brother.</p><p>    They made it to the Impala and Sam forced his way into the passenger seat quickly. Dean followed and sunk into the driver’s seat. His hands rested on the steering wheel as he spread his fingers, breathing deeply as he tried to compose himself. He was a little on edge after everything if he was being honest.</p><p>    Suddenly, Sam struck out a hand and punched the dash of the car. Dean felt his heart physically lurch in his chest when he heard that crack. </p><p>    “Hey, what the hell, Sam?!”</p><p>    Sam crashed another fist against the dash, and this time Dean swore he heard something break from within. This car was one of the only possessions that he cared about besides maybe his jacket and pictures of his family. Sam knew this and would never lash out against it on purpose if he was in his right mind.</p><p>    “Damnit, Sam, stop it,” Dean gasped, reaching around to grab Sam’s wrists before he could try it again.</p><p>    Sam fought adamantly in Dean’s grasp, body twisting and back arching to give himself the power to overpower his brother. Sam bared his teeth and narrowed his eyes to unforgiving slits. However, it only took Dean a moment to realize that the look of anger stretched across Sam’s features was really masking his fear. Wild eyes met Dean’s while his body still seemed to want to move away from Dean’s grasp and around the car.</p><p>    “Sam, you need to calm down,” Dean instructed in the most calm yet stern voice that he could muster. He didn’t want to freak out Sam anymore than he was already panicked. “Look at me and breathe. Breathe, Sam.”</p><p>    Sam looked down to Dean’s hands on his wrist. “Let me go,” he choked out through clenched teeth. </p><p>    “If I let you go do you promise not to hurt yourself or the car?” </p><p>    During these attacks, Sam would sometimes turn his frustrations on himself. He would usually pull his hair, dig his nails into his skin, or slam his fist against his temples. Dean would step in and that would usually make Sam lash out against him. They were both getting better with allowing Sam the space to be frustrated with certain feelings or textures that he deemed uncomfortable by retreating or lashing out. Sometimes, though, Dean would push too much and Sam would strike out against him. The first time Sam did so, Dean had pushed right back and that had only escalated things. That was before Dean had done the research to understand why Sam did what he did and felt the way he felt. They had grown a lot from that time with all the research that Dean had done combined with Sam explaining in detail how he felt after his attacks. It was a work in progress no doubt, but they were making it work.</p><p>    “Sam, do we have a deal?”</p><p>    Sam’s head dipped forward.</p><p>    “Verbally, Sam. I need you to verbally tell me if you’re okay.”</p><p>    “I-I’m okay, Dean.”</p><p>    Dean took a moment to consider Sam’s answer before releasing his wrists. Sam brought his hands up toward his chest and started to rock back and forth, head swinging from side to side. A low hum started to roll in the back of his throat to a song that Dean didn’t know, which was pretty strange considering that he spent almost every minute with Sam. That didn’t leave much time for him to explore other music options.</p><p>    “Okay, why don’t we just sit here for a little bit until we’re both calm, okay?” Dean had often found that it was best if he approached Sam in a way that signaled that he was struggling too. Putting everything on Sam wasn’t helpful in the least; he already felt that he was often bringing them down or hindering them in someway. There was no need to put blame on a situation that Sam couldn’t help.</p><p>    They stayed in the Impala, feeling the gentle rumble when Dean finally felt comfortable enough to start it. That started to lull Sam and relax him. Sam’s shoulders started to lower and his rocking gradually stopped. It seemed that all the tension from earlier was beginning to pulse from his body and left him tired. Usually Sam would sleep for a couple hours after a meltdown even if it was the middle of the day or earlier.</p><p>    Silence filled the car even after Sam slumped against the passenger side. Dean didn’t dare risk driving away when he wasn’t sure the mental state Sam was in.</p><p>    “I’m sorry.”</p><p>    Dean lifted his head from where he was looking down and picking at a scab over one of his knuckles. “Sam, you don’t need to apologize for this. I’ve already told you this.” Dean kept his voice clipped and to the point. Sam needed reassurance—that was obvious—but Dean sometimes also needed Sam to know that he didn’t have to apologize every time he had a breakdown like this because of his disorder.</p><p>    Sam rubbed the back of his hand harshly against his eyes to dry the tears before they could fall. “I’m so fucking messed up.”</p><p>    “Hey!”</p><p>    Sam jumped at the force behind Dean’s words as he spun to look at his brother, eyes round and hackles beginning to lift in terror.</p><p>    Dean instantly lowered his voice so not to send Sam off the edge once more. He propped himself on the bench between the seats and leaned in close. He made sure not to impede on Sam’s personal space since he was big on that after a meltdown. </p><p>    “Sam, I want you to listen real close, okay?”</p><p>    Sam nodded slowly.</p><p>    “None of this is your fault. You don’t need to apologize and you’re not fucked up. You went through something that 99.99% of people wouldn’t be able to handle. You are so much stronger than you realize. There is nothing wrong with you,” Dean explained slowly so that Sam would understand.</p><p>    Sam gave his head a firm shake with his hair falling in his eyes. “Then why am I like this? Why am I still here?”</p><p>    “Well, because you know that I wouldn’t be able to survive without you.” Dean reached over and tucked Sam’s hair behind his ear. “And you wanted to give me a challenge.”</p><p>    A small wiry grin appeared on Sam’s face as he looked to Dean with a wicked glimmer in his eyes. That was a look that Dean hadn’t seen in so long.</p><p>    “Seriously, Sammy, your sensory processing disorder is just that, it’s a disorder. Your brain works differently and that’s okay.” Dean drummed his fingers on the dash. “You like that country shit, right?”</p><p>    Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean....”</p><p>    “Just humor me for a minute. You like country, right?”</p><p>    “Right.”</p><p>    “And I don’t?”</p><p>    “Obviously.”</p><p>    “And you don’t like classic rock, do you?”</p><p>    “Metallica always sounds so angry to me.”</p><p>    Dean waved Sam off. “You just don’t know good music when you hear it. Anyway, you don’t like rock and I don’t like country. That doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with either of us. It just means that we’re different. Same goes with our minds. Yours is tuned to a different frequency and likes or dislikes different things than my brain does. All that means is that you’re you and I wouldn’t change it, no matter how challenging things can get. I just hate to see you so scared or in pain because of it.”</p><p>    Sam nodded in agreement. That was always what Dean said. He never wanted to do anything that would make their already complicated lives that much more difficult, even if he couldn’t help it. Dean was always the one to pick Sam up and reassure him after every outburst or meltdown that he had due to the world around him. It was still tricky waters for both of them to navigate, especially since it was new for both of them. </p><p>    “Now, what do you say we go back and get a pizza or something and watch some crappy motel TV?”</p><p>    Sam raised a slanted eyebrow in his brother’s direction quizzically. “Is that your way of saying sorry for dragging me to the store?”</p><p>    Dean reached out and ruffled the top of Sam’s hair. It was an interaction that Sam had never shied away from, even after his deal in the Cage. “Bitch, you wanted to come! You practically begged to come!”</p><p>    “Did not, jerk.”</p><p>    The two burst into a small fit of laughter that filled the small Impala. There wasn’t enough laughter between the two of them as of late if Dean was being honest. Everything with Sam’s hallucinations and panic attacks, as well as his sensory processing disorder wasn’t helping matters. Dean always tried to keep the mood light with jokes or pranks, but Sam rarely wanted to engage. He would often shy away and shut down or block Dean out. That was something that Dean was trying to do with getting Sam to open up a little more. Anytime he could get Sam to smile or laugh was a good day to him.</p><p>    When the laughing dialed down, Dean looked over to Sam. “You ready to go?”</p><p>    “Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Sam agreed.</p><p>    Dean pulled the gearshift into reverse and backed out of the parking place. He left the Walmart behind them as quickly as possible. Although it wasn’t as easy to leave their troubles behind them, Dean wouldn’t change anything. Sam was still his brother and nothing would ever change that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was a little change of pace from some of my other stories. I wanted to show some of the struggles that Sam may have after the Cage and how things could be for him. Hopefully this story can help explain a little more about a disorder that’s not often talked about and maybe that can even help others going through it or know people that go through it. I hope that you all enjoyed this story and are staying safe and healthy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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